Fancy That
by lilyevansJan30
Summary: Like nearly everyone else who ships Harry and Ginny, I wish they had somehow gotten together earlier in HBP. This little frolic and detour gives them a couple extra months. There will be 2 chapters total.
1. Chapter 1

Fancy That

A/N: I have just started working on my next longer story, which I hope will avoid some of the problems I had writing Charming Ginny (too much drawn out, repetitive plot and not nearly enough sexy stuff). I'm going slowly with that new fic (which is called Servant of Death), because I really want to get it right, and make sure that I work out the important details up front. In the meantime, I've discovered that I can't just be working on a single story at a time, so this little bit of fluff popped into my head, and it's a good distraction. I recognize that I invented scenarios that don't totally mesh with canon, and Ron in particular is kind of OOC, but I also think there are hints in the books that he wanted Harry and Ginny to get together earlier than they did. It's just for fun. Enjoy!

After weeks of arduously setting silencing charms around his bed at night, and avoiding certain conversations, and thanking Merlin that Ron was terrible at Legilimency, Harry couldn't believe he'd slipped like that.

The silence was almost deafening as he floundered desperately for something to say, some explanation that smoothed away the admission that had fallen thoughtlessly from his lips. The door to the Hospital Wing clattered shut; Ginny's departure was only seconds old, but the damage was already done.

Harry looked at Ron. His best friend's face was still pale against the pillows of the bed, but his eyes were alert and questioning. "What did you just say?"

"Ummm." He looked at Hermione, but she was no help whatsoever. Harry didn't know how much of the satisfied look on her face stemmed from Lavender's earlier rant or Harry's recent revelation, but her expression told him quite certainly that this was not a bind she was going to help him untangle.

_What exactly had he said? _They'd been talking, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, about love potions and Ron's luck that Harry'd found a bezoar, and Harry had thought the conversation had been flowing quite well. He and Ginny had taken the mickey out of Ron for his recent behaviors, and exchanged amused glances when it was obvious that Ron and Hermione were still trying hard to deny their feelings for each other. When she'd jumped up to leave for class, Harry had touched her arm as he said goodbye, and Ron had noticed. Too late, Harry realized that his laughing comment – _what, don't tell me you fancy my sister –_ had been just that, a casual joke. Harry had been too busy watching Ginny leave to realize he'd answered out loud; that single _yeah _changed everything.

It was still quiet as Ron waited for Harry's answer.

After another half-second of trying to come up with some excuse, Harry gave it up.

"Yeah," he repeated. "I guess I . . . kind of fancy her. Ginny," he added unnecessarily.

Ron blew out a breath that was only half-masked by Hermione's satisfied, "I _knew _it!" For a second, Harry was off the hook as Ron turned to Hermione. "You knew?"

Hermione shrugged. "I strongly suspected," she allowed. She looked at Ron. "Harry and I have spent rather a lot of time together lately," she said pointedly.

Harry was amused to watch Ron squirm. His enjoyment was short-lived, however.

"Yeah, well, this isn't about me," Ron said quickly. "It's about Harry, and how he apparently has a _thing_ for my sister." He looked at Harry. "For how long?"

"Ummm." Harry cursed that this seemed to be his best answer right now. He looked at the ceiling as he tried to figure out what to say and how much to admit. Granted, analyzing exactly when he realized his feelings for Ginny had become more than merely friendly was an activity that had occupied quite a bit of his time recently, but he didn't have to tell Ron that. Quickly, he reviewed recent events in his mind. _This summer? _ Too early; even Harry wasn't really thinking about her over the summer. The Amortentia should have been a big clue, but Harry'd only realized that in the last month or so. He finally settled on what he suspected was the truth.

"It was that day, you know, when we saw her kissing Dean. Behind that tapestry." Unsaid was the fact that that same event had started the series of actions that catapulted Ron straight into Lavender's arms. Ron looked thoughtful for a moment, counting on his fingers.

". . . January, February . . . that was over four months ago! You've fancied my sister for that long?"

"Longer, actually." Hermione snorted under her breath. Fortunately, Ron seemed too immersed in the fact of _four months _to notice.

Harry shuffled awkwardly, waiting.

"So why haven't you told her?"

Of all the things Harry might have suspected Ron would say, that was not one of them. He jerked his head up. "What?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "I said, why haven't you told my sister that you fancy her?"

Harry thought that would have been obvious. He rolled his eyes back at Ron as he ticked the reasons off on his fingers.

"One, she's your sister and I thought you'd hex me, two, ever since she got over her crush she's treated me in a purely friendly way, and three, she's dating Dean." Belatedly, it occurred to Harry that the fact she was dating one of his roommates should probably have figured higher on his list of reasons not to tell Ginny how he felt. But Ron and Hermione were both shaking their heads.

"You're wrong there, mate," said Ron. He counted on his own hand. "One, if Ginny dates you, at least I can keep half an eye on her, and two, if she dates you, I don't have to worry about what she might be doing with Dean behind the tapestries."

"She and Dean have been fighting a lot lately anyway," supplied Hermione helpfully.

Harry threw up his hands. "Neither of which changes the fact that if I had red hair, she'd easily confuse me for another one of her brothers." He shook his head. "Forget I said anything."

Ron snorted. "Forget it? Not bloody likely." His eyes narrowed. "Hey, is this the reason you've been setting so many privacy charms around your bed at night?"

"No, that's because you talk in your sleep and I got tired of hearing you muttering about 'Lav-Lav,'" said Harry quickly. He gave Hermione an apologetic look, but she didn't seem particularly upset.

"Yeah well, that probably won't be a problem any more," Ron said. He leaned back against the pillows. "Go find that book I gave you for Christmas, I think you need it more than ever," he mumbled. He yawned. "Just try not to remind me that it's my sister you're working on charming." He closed his eyes and Harry got up to leave, feeling oddly as if he'd just escaped a lion's den. He turned to ask Hermione if she wanted to see if there was still lunch in the Great Hall, but she was watching Ron sleep, a small smile on her face. She looked as though she planned to stay there for a while and so Harry left quietly, thoughts swirling and the monster in his chest more alert than ever.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Hermione was right; Ginny and Dean did seem to be fighting rather regularly these days. Harry lost count of the times Ron poked him in the side or Hermione gave him a knowing smile whenever the couple's rows in the common room got loud enough to be heard plainly by the other Gryffindors.

"Stop it," he finally hissed one evening, when Dean had gone stomping up to his room and Ron had suggested in a loud whisper that Harry _go see how Ginny's fairing._

"She has her friends for that," he said testily, although he'd be lying if he said he hadn't envisioned once or twice what might be involved in comforting Ginny – maybe sitting together while she leaned against his shoulder and cried, while he held her hand and agreed Dean was an arse or something. But in truth, the Ginny that was sitting with her friends across the room looked far from needing a shoulder to cry on. She was laughing at something Jimmy Peakes was saying, and whispering in Demelza's ear, and seemed supremely unconcerned that she had just had a rather public fight with her boyfriend.

Ignoring his sudden urge to hex Jimmy Peakes, Harry got up from the sofa. "Better check on, uh, Dean," he said, walking quickly to the steps before Ron or Hermione could say anything.

In the sixth year boys' dorm, Dean was lying on his bed, hands behind his head, looking melancholy. Seamus was sitting in a chair nearby, and when Harry came in, he threw up his hands.

"Potter, will you tell Dean here that witches just aren't worth it?"

Harry feigned confusion. "Umm, what? Witches? What . . . witches?"

"All witches," said Seamus. "But in this case, one red-haired, fifth year, Quidditch-playing witch in particular. She just broke my mate's heart and I'm trying to tell him she's not worth it."

"You and Ginny broke up?" Harry forced himself to sound sympathetic to his roommate. It was rather difficult to pull off; the monster in his chest was dancing around, trying to get Harry to grin.

Dean nodded. "Just now," he said. "She said she 'likes me as a friend, but we both need to recognize that this relationship isn't going any farther.'" He sighed. "She thinks we don't really have a 'spark' between us, whatever that means."

"I'm sorry," managed Harry. He knew he shouldn't, but he had to ask. "So, she didn't say it was because she liked another bloke or anything like that?"

Dean shook his head. "Quite the opposite. She told me she wasn't really interested in dating right now, she wants to focus on her studies, and Quidditch."

Harry deflated. "Ahh, right," he muttered. He caught Seamus looking curiously at him and quickly straightened up. "That makes sense. OWLs year and all." He nodded. "She's very studious, Ginny is. Probably wants to try to beat how many Ron got. And the twins, although that won't be as difficult." Harry knew he was starting to babble, but he couldn't seem to stop. "And Quidditch, definitely. She's brilliant; I've watched her. As her captain, of course," he added hastily. "It makes sense that she'd want to focus on that. Instead of, you know, snogging and things." He flushed. _Had he really just mentioned snogging and Ginny?_ Harry forced his mouth shut and waved vaguely in the direction of the door.

"I uhh, umm. . . loo," he said finally. At the door he turned back. "I'm really sorry, Dean."

Dean just nodded morosely. Seamus was still giving Harry an odd look, but he ignored it and practically ran out of the room, only to run into Ron on the landing outside the bathroom.

"Hey, Ginny and Dean broke up, did you hear?" Ron raised his eyebrows.

Harry nodded. "Just talked to Dean, he's pretty upset about it."

Ron waved off any thought of Dean's mental state. "Yeah, but that means you're free to tell Ginny how you feel. Hermione thinks it's a good idea too," he added casually.

Harry snorted. "Oh, so _you and Hermione _both think I need to be honest to Ginny about my feelings? I shouldn't keep them, I don't know, all bottled up inside?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Why are you so eager to get me and Ginny together anyway?" he asked. "You haven't been so thrilled about her dating at all up until now."

Ron shrugged. "It's not like Ginny'd stay away from blokes altogether just because I want her to," he said, showing a remarkable amount of reasonableness. "If someone has to date her, it might as well be you."

Harry snorted again. "Do me a favor and don't tell your sister that," he said. "If there's anything that would get Ginny to never see me as anything more than a friend, it's you telling her to date me."

Ron nodded seriously. "You're right. That does sound like Ginny." He punched Harry on the arm. "So it's up to you to tell her yourself then."

Harry groaned. "I'll think about it," he said finally, mostly to get Ron off his back. He had absolutely no intention of telling Ginny anything of the sort. The monster in his chest was just going to have to stay put for a while.

HPHPHPHPHP

Things were rather tense in their dorm over the next two days. Dean seemed to alternatively blame Ron for his sister's decision and then want to ask him dozens of questions about what might best win her back. Harry found it rather tiring – not to mention surprising – listening to Dean prattle on about the various things he wanted to know about Ginny. _Hadn't they dated for over six months? How does he not know that her favorite dessert is her mum's strawberry shortcake? Or that she learned the Bat Bogey Hex from Bill when she was five? Or that she hates when people tug on her ponytail? _Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from asking Dean exactly what he and Ginny had talked about all those months, particularly because he feared the answer might be that they were usually busier using their mouths for something other than talking.

He finally got up and walked out when Dean's mood turned testy again towards Ron because he didn't know how Ginny felt about receiving flowers. _Wildflowers over roses_ Harry thought to himself as he walked downstairs to the common room. Ginny had mentioned it while arranging a bouquet on the table for Harry's birthday dinner. He didn't blame Ron for having no idea, but really, Dean had been Ginny's boyfriend; how was that something he didn't know?

He sighed, forcing his thoughts away from Ginny and wildflowers, and birthday dinners sitting next to Ginny, and just Ginny overall. It would not to keep thinking about her this way, no matter what Ron seemed to think. At the very least, Harry wanted to stay Ginny's friend, and he knew her well enough to understand that blurting out his feelings was not the way to do that. Apparently, not everyone shared that knowledge, and Harry tried – and failed - to hide his smile at Quidditch practice later that day when he heard Ginny tell Jimmy Peakes in a rather testy voice that _no, she wasn't interested in a walk by the lake, didn't he realize she'd just broken up with her boyfriend?_

Ginny looked at Harry unexpectedly, and he couldn't quite get his face resolved back into serious lines first. But instead of being annoyed that Harry had overheard her, or that he apparently thought her ire was amusing, she gave him a quick grin back before rolling her eyes in Jimmy's direction.

"Work him extra hard, will you?" she muttered to Harry as she walked by. He managed a quick "absolutely, the git" and was rewarded with another one of Ginny's smiles before she walked out of the changing room.

Harry worked the entire team hard that practice; it was the only way he could manage to keep his eyes from wandering too often over to Ginny. Harry had never noticed how sensual broom flight was, the way Ginny did it. She grasped the handle with both hands, using (Harry imagined) the exact right amount of pressure. When she leaned flat into a dive, her breasts (Harry again imagined) hovered tantalizingly on either side of the wooden shaft.

_Aww, fuck._

Harry had been flying gentle circles around the other players, watching their formations and calling suggestions. Abruptly, he leaned forward on his Firebolt and shot into the air, calling out behind him.  
"New idea, lets work on speed. First one to circle the lake gets to end practice early."

They all took off, chasing Harry and yelling good-natured insults and threats back and forth. His Firebolt was the fastest broom and that, plus his head start, meant that he landed back at the pitch several minutes before everyone else. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was watching the sky for a hint of red (and not Ron's red), and when he saw it streaking towards him, he let out a little sigh of something very close to anticipation.

Ginny touched down lightly next to Harry. Her eyes were sparkling and her hair had started to come out of its tie. Harry had to resist the sudden urge to tuck it behind her ear and instead gave her a grin and a high five.

"Good flying, Weasley," he said, forcing casualness. "Ron anywhere in sight?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "He flies like our Aunt Muriel sometimes," she said. "But thanks for thinking up something to get Peaks off my neck.

Harry didn't get a chance to try to come up with a smart reply. As though conjured by Ginny's words, Jimmy and Demelza flew in, neck and neck, landing in a tangled heap of limbs and brooms. The rest of the team was not far behind. The two players on the ground were laughing and teasing each other, and when Jimmy reached a hand out to help Demelza off the ground, Harry caught Ginny's eye and raised his eyebrows.

"Looks like you're off the hook," he muttered.

"Thank Merlin," she muttered back.

Harry looked at the team. "Okay, everyone but Ginny give me ten flights up and down the steps before practice is over." He shot a spell at the stands. "I'll know if you cheat, so don't, or next time it's twenty flights."

Everyone groaned. "And what are you going to be doing?" asked Richie Coote. He was notorious for hating to exercise.

Harry grinned. "It's cold out here. I'll be waiting in the changing rooms to give you my post-practice pep talk." He carefully avoided looking at Ron, but he could feel his gaze.

"Lucky you, Ginny," remarked Katie Bell. She rubbed her hands together. "I'm freezing." The Chaser grinned at Harry. "Not that I'm complaining," she said. "You still talk less than Oliver."

Harry grinned back, mentally thanking Katie for assuming Ginny would be waiting in the changing room with him. "Everyone talks less than Oliver," he said.

"I think Harry should talk . . . a little more," said Ron pointedly. Harry groaned to himself, hoping no one else wondered what Ron meant. He shoved his friend a little harder than necessary towards the edge of the pitch. "Shut it, Ron, or I'll tell Hermione not to help you review your Charms essay."

"Ehh, she won't listen to you," said Ron cheerfully. "She already promised to help me, anyway." He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head in the direction of his sister before turning away.

Harry sighed. Ron was going to be a problem one of these days, but since he was being so decent about Harry fancying Ginny in the first place, hexing his mouth shut was probably not the best idea.

He watched as everyone walked – with varying degrees of enthusiasm – over to the stands to begin running up and down the steps, before turning towards the changing rooms. Harry didn't say anything to Ginny, letting her decide to follow him, or not.

She followed him, and Harry gave a little mental cheer. As long as he kept his mind focused solely on Quidditch, his body would hopefully follow suit while they waited. Ginny's next words destroyed that plan.

"I'm going to take a quick shower down here while we're waiting," Ginny said. "I have a lot of studying to do later."

The monster in Harry's chest jumped up and looked around. Harry swallowed before answering. "Ahh, right. A shower. Good . . . good idea," he stammered. "I think I will, uhh, yeah. A shower. Take one, I mean." He turned quickly towards the boys' side of the changing room and loo, thinking about all the silencing charms he was going to have to set to make it through the shower without Ginny realizing what he was doing. Because there was no question about what he was going to be doing.

HPHPHPHP

As soon as Ginny and the others had left the changing room after his post-workout talk, Harry cornered Ron. He had come in after finishing running his steps with a suggestive smirk on his face, his voice sounding almost too innocent as he noted that both Harry and Ginny had wet hair and looked rather more _fresh_ than the rest of the team. Ginny had given Ron a strange look before muttering "shut up, Ronald," and Harry feared that she'd somehow twigged her brother's innuendo. Harry wanted to be firm and threatening, telling Ron to lay off, but Ginny's expression was still on his mind. Instead, Harry found himself begging his best friend to stop making suggestive comments and to just _let the idea of Harry and Ginny die a proper death._

"Not that there's anything to die anyway," Harry conceded. His recent wank in the shower had left him feeling less satisfied than normal; the fact that he'd likely never get any closer to Ginny than showering separately from her across a large room bringing on unusual melancholy.

Ron seemed to understand Harry's mood. He cuffed him lightly on the arm. "Of course, mate. You don't need to be reminded all the time anyway." His voice took on a rather knowing air. "Hermione thinks we need to stop talking about it too."

Harry sighed, too depressed to even point out – again – that Ron seemed to be agreeing with Hermione an awful lot these days. "I'm glad you listen to Hermione, at least," he said tiredly, waving Ron out ahead of him on the pretense of needing to organize the equipment. Maybe a walk on his own would clear his head and give him a chance to figure out how he was going to manage – both literally and emotionally – trying to avoid Ginny Weasley for a while.

HPHPHPHPHP

Harry's success lasted two entire days. He forced himself to study in the library, not the common room, and took circuitous routes to all his classes. At night, he stayed away from Gryffindor Tower as much as possible, running straight up to his room if Ginny happened to be there when Harry climbed through the portrait hole, giving her only a perfunctory nod as he walked by. It was stupid and immature and he hated himself for his behavior, not to mention the fact that it absolutely wasn't working anyway. He was thinking of Ginny as much as ever, and by the second day, he knew he wasn't imagining the confused look she'd begun giving him every time he rushed by with barely a glance. He didn't need Hermione's relationship advice or any book from Ron to know how much he was about to make a mess of things, and resolved the figure out a different way to keep his feelings hidden.

Determined to patch things up with Ginny as soon as possible, Harry left Hermione and Ron to their studying/flirting and walked back to the common room early the next evening. To his relief, Ginny was sitting alone at a table by the fire and Harry casually sat down on a nearby sofa after giving he a friendly smile and hello. Ginny gave him a tentative smile back, but she seemed distracted. A shout of laughter from across the room made her grimace, and Harry looked over just in time to see Dean throw a casual arm around a pretty fourth year called Lucia. She'd apparently just won a round of Exploding Snap they were playing against Seamus and another girl Harry didn't know, the four of them looking rather cozy in the corner of the room. Harry also didn't miss Dean glance triumphantly over to Ginny, but she had gone back to looking at the parchment in front of her, and only the tight set of her lips gave Harry a hint that she wasn't engrossed in her homework.

Another shout of laughter, and Harry wanted to stomp across the room and tell his roommate to keep it down. But he wasn't a prefect and it would have looked odd, not to mention that Ginny would not have appreciated his stepping in. She was biting the end of her quill as she seemingly reviewed her essay with deliberate care, stopping every once in a while to cross out a word. Harry still wasn't fooled and he fumbled around for something comforting to say, unfortunately coming up empty. Frustrated, he turned back to his review of the Half-Blood Prince's potions book, telling himself to take advantage of not having Hermione nearby to give it a good look.

"All right, Lucia, good one!" Another shout by Dean, another glance at Ginny. Harry saw her squeeze her quill and mutter something under her breath, but she didn't look up. Briefly, Harry considered telling her she didn't have to stay downstairs. It was now late enough that excuses of shower and bed would not be suspicious. But he knew, somehow, that Ginny would not be leaving until after Dean did.

It took another hour for the common room to empty out. Ron and Hermione came back just before curfew, in the middle of a row, it seemed. Both left for their respective rooms with barely a glance at Harry or Ginny, and for that Harry was relieved. Dean, Seamus, and the two fourth year girls were the last to depart. Ginny did not look up from her work, but Harry did, in time to see Dean lean in towards Lucia, and the girl give him a smile and pat on the arm before giggling and running upstairs.

Harry hid his smirk as Dean walked by. "See you upstairs Potter, night, Ginny," the other boy said casually.

"Mmmhmmm," mumbled Ginny. "See you, Dean."

When he was finally gone and the common room was completely quiet, Ginny sagged a bit in her seat and ran her hand tiredly over her eyes. She looked over at Harry, and didn't seem surprised that he'd stayed.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

Harry understood. "Of course," he said.

Ginny looked back at the stairs up to the girls' dorm and bit her lip. She looked swiftly at Harry.

"Did they, umm . . ." she begain.

"No," said Harry firmly. "Not at all." He smirked. "She actually patted him on the arm."

Ginny snorted then. "Did she really? Good for her." Her face grew more serious. "I don't know why I care," she said. "I actually don't care. I broke up with him, and for good reasons. He's a nice guy; it just wasn't going anywhere." She sighed. "But I didn't need to see all that."

"He was trying to make you jealous," said Harry. "He kept looking over at you." Briefly, he considered that he was probably cementing himself firmly as merely one of Ginny's friends, talking to her about her ex-boyfriend. But she looked more cheerful than she had all night, and Harry pushed away the feeling that he was probably ruining any chance he might have had for more. "Really, I've been listening to him question Ron about you all week; he's not interested in that fourth year."

Ginny snorted again. "As if my brother could give relationship advice."

Harry laughed. "I had to step in when he told Dean that maybe you'd like a box of coconut bonbons as a gift."

Ginny made a face. "I hate coconut," she said, shuddering.

Harry laughed. "I know, but Ron apparently didn't." He paused. "Neither did Dean."

Ginny didn't say anything for a long minute, and Harry thought he'd gone too far. But then she stretched and got up from the table and Harry sighed, assuming she was about to say goodnight. Instead, she plopped down at the other end of the sofa with a contented sound. "Much better, my back was getting sore." She looked at Harry. "What else does my brother think he knows about me?" she asked.

From Ron and Dean, and then Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny's conversation moved to Quidditch, and Owls, and Harry's best memories of the Burrow, coupled with his worst of Privet Drive. Ginny had never heard that Harry used to sleep in a cupboard, and she was properly horrified at his treatment by his aunt and uncle. By the time their talk turned to their memories of the Chamber, and the Department of Mysteries, and Harry had told Ginny everything that had happened in the graveyard the night Voldemort returned, it was very late indeed.

They had scooted closer to each other on the sofa while they talked, and now Harry was drowsing sleepily against the cushions, his face only inches from Ginny's. "Thank Merlin I don't have Dada tomorrow," he said through a yawn. "There's no way I'd be able to survive Snape."

Ginny nodded. "I guess we'd better go to bed," she said, but made no move to get up.

Harry was just considering how a bad an idea it might be to sleep right there on the common room sofa when Ginny straightened up a bit and looked at him. "Can I ask you a question first? Before we go to bed?" Her voice had an odd timbre in it and Harry suddenly felt more awake. He sat up too.

"Sure, anything," he said warily.

Ginny looked down and played with her fingers. "I just was wondering," she said, "why you were avoiding me this week." She looked up. "You _were _avoiding me, right?"

Harry didn't even try to lie. "I was, yeah," he admitted. "I'm so sorry, Ginny. I was being an arse. It was all me; you didn't do anything wrong."

Ginny frowned. "But it had to do with me," she said. It wasn't a question.

Harry took a deep breath. "It did," he said. "I was . . . misguided," he finally said. "About how I should be treating you. Because . . .uhhh . . ." he stopped, flushing. _There was no way he could say it to her._

But Ginny persisted. "Because why?" she asked quietly.

Harry didn't answer. He counted to ten, watched the last bit of log sink lower into the fireplace grate and send up sparks, swallowed hard. Finally he nodded to himself. He looked firmly down at his hands as he answered.

"Because I . . . I fancy you, Ginny. More than fancy, I think. I have for a while."

Ginny didn't say anything.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the sofa. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know it's not what you need to hear right now, and you just got out of a relationship and aren't looking for anything else." He winced, feeling Ginny's eyes on him. "I probably should have just kept my mouth shut." He sighed. "But Ron accidentally found out and I don't think it's fair for him to know and not you. He's driving me kind of crazy about it, actually, and Hermione's not much better. It's just that I . . ."

Harry stopped when he felt the light touch of Ginny's hand on his. "It's okay, Harry," she said.

Carefully, he opened his eyes. Ginny's expression was thoughtful. As he watched, Harry even thought he saw a small smile play around her lips, but it was gone so quickly he might've imagined it.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't want to make things uncomfortable between us." He sagged. "I probably just made things uncomfortable between us," he said glumly.

Ginny squeezed his hand. "Harry, it's the middle of the night and we've been talking for more than four hours. I'm pretty sure we know each other well enough to be able to get past you confessing that you fancy me." Ginny suddenly looked unaccountably shy. "That is, assuming you _want _to get past it."

The monster in Harry's chest sat up with interest. Harry considered Ginny's words, not quite sure she meant what he hoped. "And, what if I don't want to get past it?" he asked carefully.

He watched as Ginny twisted her hands in her lap and took a deep breath of her own. "I finally gave up on my silly crush on you last year," she said quietly. "And I think that's why we've been able to become friends."

Harry nodded. "Hermione told me," he said. He waited.

"And that worked, for a while," Ginny went on. "I liked being friends with you." She looked up at him and Harry nodded swiftly. "I liked being friends with you too," he said. "I still like it."

"Me too," agreed Ginny. "Except, the better friends we became . . ." she stopped, and Harry could see a slight blush creeping across her cheeks.

He took a chance and reached out, gently lifting Ginny's chin so he could look her in the eye. She stared back, and didn't move her head away.

"I fancy you too," she whispered. "Or more."

Harry was pretty sure he stopped breathing. "You do? You . . . you fancy me too?" He wondered if he'd already fallen asleep, and this was a dream, and the noises he was making were waking up Ron right now and he was about to be hexed. But Ginny shuffled closer and leaned her head on Harry's shoulder and suddenly it felt like the most natural thing in the world for Harry to take the hand that was on her chin and run it down the side of her face. She turned a little more, and then they were almost facing each other and their faces were so close together that Harry barely had to move for his lips to meet hers.

He half expected her to pull away. Harry had just spent two days avoiding Ginny specifically because he thought he'd bollocks up their friendship if she ever found out he fancied her, and now here they were, kissing in the Gryffindor common room as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He finally knew it wasn't a dream when he felt her lips part, just slightly, against his, and Harry gave a swift, incongruous thought of _thanks _to Dean that Ginny felt comfortable enough to take the lead. Harry wasn't sure he'd have had the courage to go first.

They kissed, gently and curiously, stopping every so often to stare at each other in amazement, or even to chuckle at the incongruity of it all, until Ginny gave an enormous yawn and Harry matched it a second later. The shared a laugh, and Harry touched Ginny's cheek before they slowly climbed off the sofa and he helped her gather her homework into a neat pile.

"Can we . . . not tell anyone yet?" Harry asked. "I don't quite feel like we need to start explaining things to everyone. Do you mind?" He held his breath, wondering if he was already making a mistake.

But Ginny nodded firmly. "I agree," she said. "Can you just imagine my brother and Hermione?"

"And Dean," added Harry. "I already set enough wards around my bed at night. Don't need to start protecting myself from my roommates too."

"Why do you set wards?" asked Ginny curiously.

"Because Ron talks in his sleep," said Harry quickly, relieved he had that excuse at the ready. Now more than ever, it wouldn't do to tell Ginny to truth, to have her find out that he was just another randy bloke. _He wasn't, was he? This was different, he was sure of it._

"We're different, aren't we?" The words slipped out before he could properly think.

Ginny looked surprised for a minute, and then her face relaxed into a pleased smile. "We are," she said.

Harry kissed her again by the stairs up to the girls' dormitory. He rested his forehead against hers and played with her hair, not yet willing to let her go.

"I guess I won't be able to kiss you here anymore," he said ruefully. "If we want to keep things a secret."

"Only at 3 in the morning," agreed Ginny. She reached up and gave him a lingering last kiss. "Sleep well, Harry."

"You too," he said. "And let's hope neither of us get called on in class tomorrow."

Harry tripped up the stairs in a daze of exhilaration and exhaustion. The giddiness was paramount; he didn't want to brush his teeth and lose the taste of Ginny on his tongue, or change out of his robes and lose the smell of her on his clothes. Only the knowledge that he was going to be able to recreate those senses tomorrow – _today _– propelled him into the loo for a quick wash and change. Tired as he was, he hoped the morning came quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This story was only supposed to be two chapters, but it's going to be a bit longer. Probably only one more, but we'll see. I think Harry's a little bit out of character in places – more like I imagine he'd be if the prophecy and Voldemort didn't exist. I wanted to give him a bit of a break.

Four days later, Harry was in the library, trying to finish a Transfiguration essay when Ron and Hermione plopped down on either side of him. He was trying to remember the precise order of spells for changing a single object into three separate different objects and barely looked up, glancing instead at his watch. _Fifteen minutes._

"That bad, is it, Harry?" Hermione's voice dripped with sympathy.

At the last minute, Harry bit back his answer – _yes, he had it bad –_and looked up. "Huh?"

Ron shook his head. "What happened, mate? You're actually hiding in the library now, and it's more than obvious you've been avoiding Ginny."

Harry struggled to feign confusion. "Avoiding . . . avoiding, Ginny? Why would I avoid Ginny? Ginny and I are friends. I've no reason to avoid her." The words sounded glaringly fake. Harry looked at his watch. _Twelve minutes._

"I dunno, it just seems like every time she walks into the common room, you walk out," said Hermione. "And when Ron got that letter from his mum and she came over to see what it said, you went running out of the Great Hall like a banshee was after you."

"And you haven't called another Quidditch practice, and didn't you tell her last week that you'd help her practice the defensive spells she'll need for her OWLs? You haven't done that, have you?" Ron peered at him.

Harry squirmed. _Nine minutes_. I really don't know what you both are talking about," he said. "Nothing has happened, between Ginny and me, I mean. Nothing's changed. I don't know what you're talking about." He huffed and picked up his quill. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got this essay I need to finish." He didn't need to pretend to look harried; he was supposed to meet Ginny outside the greenhouses in seven minutes and he didn't want to be late.

"Let me help you then," said Hermione. She reached over and turned the parchment in her direction.

Harry stifled a groan. Any other time, he'd fall all over himself to get Hermione's help. But by the crease in her forehead, he could tell she was gearing up for a long session of editing his essay and explaining to him exactly what he'd done wrong. He thought quickly.

"Actually, Hermione, that would be a big help. I'm umm, I'm not feeling that great. Headache. That's why it's taking me so long." He rubbed at his eyes in what he hoped was a convincing manner. "It's been coming on all day and now it's pretty bad. Maybe I should just go lie down or something."

Ron gave him a sharp look. "What kind of headache?" he asked. "Is You Know Who planning something?"

_Damn, should have said it was my stomach._

Harry shook his head. "Just a regular headache, I think. Too much going on, you know? With school, and Dumbledore, and Quidditch, and tailing Malfoy." He grimaced. Even leaving now, he was going to be late. He stood up. "I'm sure I'll okay after I have a nap." He waved his hand at the parchment. "Whatever you can do, Hermione, would be great. Really great." He rubbed his head and grimaced. "I need to go lie down."

Without waiting for an answer, Harry practically sprinted out of the library. He was panting when he arrived at the greenhouses – two minutes late – and Ginny looked at him in concern. He waved away her worry. "Ron . . . Hermione . . . library," he said, trying to slow his breath.

Ginny chuckled. "Have they been on you too? Hermione practically cornered me in the loo to ask if I _doing okay_. I thought she meant about Dean." She snorted. "Turns out they think you are giving me the cold shoulder for some reason."

Harry could finally speak again. "Yeah, apparently I've been doing too good of a job avoiding you," he said. "Ron noticed I've been neglecting Quidditch."

"Which you absolutely cannot do," said Ginny. "Especially considering that it's the one place you and I can be together without having to hide or anyone getting suspicious."

Harry took Ginny's hand and tugged her off the path to a shortcut to the lake they'd discovered the day before. There was a quiet spot behind a copse of trees where the grass grew especially thick; a few extra charms made it as soft as a pillow. "I know," he said. "We need to start practicing for the Ravenclaw match. I just keep thinking someone will figure it out, if they see us together." He grinned. "Like, you'll make a great move and I'll forget and kiss you or something."

"Or you'll spend all of practice staring at my bum," said Ginny cheekily. "Don't think I don't notice when you do that that."

Harry flushed. "I can't help it," he admitted. "It's a very cute bum, and there are only so many times that it's not covered by robes."

"It's not covered now," Ginny pointed out. She let go of his hand and jogged ahead of him, then stopped and looked back over her shoulder. "Like what you see?"

"Hell yeah," said Harry. "Especially when it's moving up and down like that."

Ginny laughed and took off running down the path and Harry chased her, half of him just enjoying the view and the other half rather amazed at how comfortable he felt, admitting to Ginny that he liked watching her bum. He caught up to her easily – he was pretty sure she wanted to get caught – and grabbed her around the waist. She laughed when he tickled her sides and so he did it again, just to hear the sound of her happiness.

"What about me?" he asked, low in her ear.

She twisted to look at him. "What about you?"

"I was just wondering, is there a part of me you like to watch?" Harry marveled at his boldness. He felt Ginny's breath hitch.

"Something that moves up and down?" she whispered.

Harry shivered. "Maybe just up," he whispered back. The air was charged between them as he pulled her the last few steps to the spot under the trees.

So far, they'd not done much more than kiss. Heated, open-mouthed kisses, yes, the kind that made Harry lose track of himself, but nothing else. He'd been excruciatingly careful to keep his hands on Ginny's back, or in her hair, or gently cupping the sides of her face (she'd liked that a lot), and had avoided any part of her body that constituted a _next step_. It was getting more difficult. Just yesterday, he'd twice caught himself about to touch her bum (she wasn't wrong about how much he liked it), and had pulled back at the last minute. It wasn't that he thought Ginny would mind; he suspected she'd probably like it as much as he did. But his own body was already reacting crazily to just their kisses, and he was barely been able to keep Ginny from feeling him, _down there_, when they were pressed together.

That morning, Harry had decided that maybe it didn't matter. He'd been brushing his teeth, reliving every stolen second with Ginny over the past days, and trying to keep the stupid smile off his face so his roommates didn't think he'd gone barmy. After briefly considering whether he should just wank before meeting Ginny, Harry had come to the conclusion that the amused look she'd given him yesterday after they'd snogged behind a tapestry had been because she knew exactly what he'd been trying to hide. _It would be less embarrassing to stop dancing around while we kiss,_ Harry decided. _Probably would feel a lot better too._

And so now, instead of trying to get as close to the top half of Ginny as he could while at the same time, keeping the area below his waist a healthy distance away, Harry slowly stepped closer. He watched carefully for any sign that she wanted him to stop, but Ginny's eyes were bright, and when Harry was close enough that he thought she just might be able to feel a hint of his arousal against her belly, she took a tiny step forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Harry couldn't hold back a groan. He dropped his mouth to Ginny's lips and his hands to her bum. "Okay?" he mumbled, not sure what he'd do if she said no.

"More than okay," she mumbled back, opening her mouth to his kiss.

It was more than brilliant, pressing himself up against Ginny while they snogged. They stood for a little while, Ginny's back against a tree, and then carefully, with blushing faces and a several _do you wants _and_ might as wells _and then a rather enthusiastically hissed _YES, _they were lying next to each other, Ginny half on top of Harry, on the ground.

Her hip hitched across his waist and he wasn't even very embarrassed to pull her a little more firmly onto him so that she was more or less laying on his erection. Kissing in this position was an entirely new experience; Harry slid his hands up the back of Ginny's shirt and she wiggled against him in a way that made all thoughts fly out of his head.

He knew how far she'd gone with Dean, and was delighted to know they'd surpassed that just by lying down together, even (more or less) fully clothed. Ginny gave a little hum of satisfaction when Harry's hands skimmed the sides of her bra and he groaned when she pulled herself up to lie completely on top of him.

And in between kisses, they talked. Sometimes, it was about what they were doing at that moment; Harry particularly enjoyed discussing – and then attempting – several rather creative ways to unhook Ginny's bra with magic. Later, they talked about Quidditch, Harry tracing out formations on Ginny's bare stomach while she laughed. They might have been the only two people in world.

The shadows were growing longer by the time they reluctantly broke apart. Harry remembered the cleaning spells and Ginny fastened her buttons and they both grinned stupidly at each other at how brilliant it all was. Harry promised to set a Quidditch practice and Ginny promised to keep her bum covered throughout it, a vow Harry had mixed feelings about her keeping.

They separated just before rejoining the main path down to the greenhouses. Ginny doubled back to emerge from the path that led to the Quidditch pitch, her tousled hair and clothing adding credence to her story that she'd been out for a fly, should anyone have asked. Harry hurried up to the castle with a mind to find Hermione and retrieve his Transfiguration essay. He thought about grabbing Ginny for one last kiss but before he could do so, she'd pulled him back to her instead.

It was probably that last kiss that was to blame for the muddled state of Harry's brain, and the reason he could only look dumbly at Ron and Hermione when they accosted him just inside the doors to the castle and asked where he'd been _all this time _and _hadn't he had a headache_?

"Napping," he managed, and Ron's eyes narrowed.

"But where? You weren't in the dormitory, unless you've mastered how to transfigure yourself to look like an empty bed." He crossed his arms.

Harry forced himself to think. "I, uhh . . . I went for a walk. To clear my head," he stuttered. "Fell asleep under a tree by the pitch." Before Ron could ask any other questions, Harry turned to Hermione. "Thanks so much for helping me with Transfiguration. I just couldn't make sense of it at all today."

Hermione shrugged modestly. "It wasn't terrible, Harry. You just needed to focus more on why the order of spells is so important. Next time, if you look for . . . Ginny!"

Harry's head whipped around just in time to see Ginny approaching them. Harry started to take an involuntary step forward and pulled himself back just in time, trying to make the movement look like he'd tripped. He bumped against Ron and almost knocked him over; he was rewarded with the sound of Ginny's laugh.

"Okay there, Harry?"

He couldn't look at her while he responded. "Yeah, fine," he said shortly, afraid that even a few more syllables would give away the fact that not a half hour before, he'd been running a hand over Ginny's breast.

"Don't mind Harry's rudeness, he's apparently been napping all afternoon while Hermione and I did his homework."

"While I revised both of your homeworks, Ron," said Hermione in an amused voice. She'd become much more agreeable ever since Ron had ended things with Lavender. He and Ginny had talked about it just an hour ago, right after she'd . . .

_Damn._

Harry swallowed hard and turned away, focusing on the house hourglasses on the wall just opposite. _Was Gryffindor in the lead, or was it Slytherin right now? He peered closer. Maybe there was a spell that could count. . . ouch! _

The punch on his arm was not gentle and he turned towards Ron, rubbing it. "What's that about?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "I've only asked you three times where you were napping, down by the pitch. Ginny was out flying and said she didn't see you. There aren't many trees down that way." Ron's voice was suspicious.

"I . . . I was disillusioned," said Harry quickly. "Didn't want to get interrupted."

"Oh, you've mastered self-disillusionment? I'm still having trouble, can you help me?" Hermione sounded concerned and Harry bit back a groan. He still had no idea how to disillusion himself, he'd barely practiced the spell after they had learned it in DADA the other day. He'd been too busy with . . .

_Damn._

He put his hand to his head. "Actually, my headache's not all gone," he said. "I think I'm going to go lie down; I'm sure Dobby will bring me something to eat later."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and rushed off, sure he could hear another of Ginny's laughs behind him, over Ron's blustering about the rudeness of his best mate.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry got a thorough talking-to about that rudeness the next day in the common room; Ron wanted him to know that _avoiding Ginny is not the way to get her to fancy you back, mate. _Hermione was more circumspect.

"Sometimes, when you've been friends with someone for a long time, it can be difficult to let them know how you feel, don't you think?" Hermione looked at Harry seriously. "I mean, you've known Ginny almost as long as we've known Ron, right? She might be . . . completely oblivious to your feelings, and I'm sure you don't want to ruin your friendship by introducing the idea that . . . there might be more between the two of you." Hermione glanced furtively at Ron, who was nodding in agreement.

"She's a tricky one, Ginny is," he said. He cuffed Harry on the arm and Harry bit back a grin at his friend's cluelessness.

"At least I know I fancy her," he pointed out. "I'm . . . I'm just not sure how she feels about me, not yet." Harry smirked. "It might be different if Ginny and I spent as much time together as, say, the three of us do, you know? But since I don't see her as often, I'm willing to be patient." Hermione turned a bit pink at Harry's words, but Ron merely nodded seriously. "Good idea, mate. You know, if you get her to fancy you back, let her think it was all her idea. Ginny likes to make her own decisions. She's unusual that way. I think most witches like the bloke to take control."

Harry had to mask his snort behind a coughing fit. "I'll remember that, right," he finally gasped. "Water," he mumbled, getting up from the table. "Going to get some." Ginny would be finishing Charms soon; she _had _to hear this.

HPHPHPHPHP

Harry refused to catch Ginny's eye the entire time he was talking to the Quidditch team before their practice on Sunday. He'd gotten a magical chalkboard and spent most of the time with this back to everyone, quickly sketching out formations and new moves, and then animating them to fly around. He described the players by their positions instead of their names, so certain was he that everyone would be able to hear _something _in his voice if he tried to talk about Ginny.

Nevertheless, he could feel her eyes boring into his back the entire time he was speaking. It was like a physical thing; at one point, Harry was certain he could feel Ginny's finger brushing gently across the back of his neck. He broke a piece of chalk in his hand, trying to regain control, and Demelza asked him if he needed some water, because his voice sounded rather odd.

Harry shook his head and waved everyone out of the changing rooms and into the air as quickly as possible, hoping that the physical activity and distance would help him focus. He didn't turn around to follow them until the silence promised he was alone. He should have known better.

Ginny stood by the doorway, arms crossed, a slight smirk on her face. "This is going to hard for you, isn't it?" she asked.

Harry nodded, closing the distance between them. "Hard is a good word for it," he mumbled, before leaning in for a kiss. Ginny put her arms around his neck and that reminded Harry of something. He pulled back. "Did you somehow touch me while I was showing you the formations? I could have sworn I felt your hands on the back of my neck."

Ginny grinned. "Physical projection gloves," she said, holding up her hands. "From Fred and George." She waved them at Harry and said a few quiet words and suddenly he could have sworn she was running her hands down his sides. He shivered. "Those are . . . they are, umm . . ." he swallowed. "Probably illegal to use in a game, better take them off," he finally said. "But don't lose them," he added firmly. "I think I may want to see what else they can do, later."

"I'm looking forward to it," promised Ginny. She dropped the gloves on the bench and pulled on her regular ones, before giving him another quick kiss and slipping out of the changing room.

Harry counted to ten slowly before joining her, both to reduce suspicion that they had been together and also to allow his body some time to regain control. The upcoming Ravenclaw game was important. Not only would it decide the winner of the Quidditch cup, but Cho would be playing against Harry as Seeker. It felt vitally important that his team show up hers up in the match. Taking a deep breath, Harry nodded to himself and grabbed his broom.

Everyone was up in the air, and by the looks of things, they had been listening to his speech. Harry recognized the formations he'd described and was pleased to see they looked as good in person as they had on the chalkboard. He tried to pay equal attention to the way all three Chasers moved together, dodging Bludgers and weaving in and out of the Beaters, but it was no use; his eyes kept coming back to the flash of red in the middle. She moved effortlessly, the few hairs that had escaped her ponytail whipping around in the wind as she flattened herself against the handle of her broom.

Harry closed his eyes, remembering what it felt like to have those same strands of hair tickle across his chest and arms when Ginny lay on top of him, and thinking about how much he wished she was lying on top of him right now, instead of her broom.

He'd never ridden a broom with an erection before, but apparently he wasn't going to have a choice. Harry kicked off into the air and purposely flew wide, high circles above the team while he willed his body to get back under control. Watching Ron and the Beaters helped, and Harry had finally dared to magnify his voice and was calling suggestions when an errant Bludger missed the end of Jimmy Peakes' bat and smacked into Ginny's back. She wobbled for a second – she obviously hadn't seen it coming – before slowly flying down towards the grass.

Harry was beside her in a half-second. His spell, and Ron's, would have kept Ginny on her broom anyway, but though her face was tight with pain, Harry could not help be impressed at the control she showed in her descent.

Once on the ground, Harry helped Ginny off her broom; it was evidence how bad she felt that she let him. The rest of the team gathered around and Demelza darted forward to perform an ice charm across Ginny's back. She leaned forward, hands on her knees, and groaned. "That feels good," she said.

"Does she need the hospital wing? I can take her." Jimmy Peakes was darting around, obviously feeling guilty about his role in Ginny's injury.

"Not the hospital wing," Ginny said quickly. "Madame Pomfrey would probably keep me overnight." She tried to straighten up, and winced before bending back down. "But I need something to help the bruise." She looked up at Harry. "You had to learn that spell, didn't you? When you became captain?"

Harry gulped. The captain's quidditch training manual did in fact contain a number of simple healing spells, but in truth, Harry hadn't paid them much attention, preferring to spend his time studying moves and formations and strategies. He didn't say this though. "Uh, yeah," he said. "I'm sure there's a spell to fix this so . . . Ginny . . . doesn't have to go to the hospital wing." Just saying her name casually was difficult; it always made him want to grin. He put his hand gently on Ginny's back and felt her shiver in a way that seemed to have nothing to do with her injury.

Harry nodded. "I'll need to look at the bruise, to make sure it's something I can heal," he said decisively. He leaned his head down. "Can you make it to the changing room?"

Ginny's hair had loosened from her ponytail and fell around the sides of her face as she leaned over. "Not sure," she said. "It hurts to stand upright."

Harry called Ron over, and together they created a chair with their arms and eased Ginny into it. Demelza cast a spell to make her almost weightless and in minutes, Ginny was stretched out on her stomach on one of the padded training benches in the changing room.

Harry bit his lip. He wanted to lift up Ginny's shirt and assess the damage, but the rest of the team was gathered around and he felt self conscious, not to mention that he still needed to get the training manual and learn the healing spell.

"Okay, um. . . ." he began. He put his hand on Ginny back again. "I guess I'd better take a look at where you got hit." He fumbled at the bottom of her uniform shirt.

"Hey, give him some space, that's my sister who's hurt!" Ron was suddenly pushing people towards the door. "Go on, she'll be fine, I'll make sure he doesn't break her." Ron gave Harry a pointed look. "You're not going to break her, right?"

"Right, I promise," said Harry quickly. Ron nodded. "Then let's take advantage that Harry's not going to keep us here another hour, talking our ears off while we miss lunch," he said, waving expansively. "Get going. I'll be there in a second, once Ginny's sorted."

No one needed to be told twice; everyone else left quickly. Harry wondered if Ron actually intended to stay. He'd wandered casually over to the shelf where the training manual was, and was now flipping through the pages. "Come here, I think I found it." Ron gestured to Harry.

When they were bent over the spell, Ron cast a quiet Muffliato and spoke to Harry in a low voice. "I'm going to leave," he said. "This is the perfect chance for you to fix whatever it is you mucked up with Ginny by ignoring her all this time, okay? I don't care what you say – apologize to her, admit you're an arse, whatever." Ron's tone boded no argument.

Harry stifled a grin and forced himself to sound contrite. "I'll do my best. You're right, I've really not been fair to her. We're . . . we're friends. And I need to act like one, no matter what else I feel."

Ron nodded in satisfaction. "Hermione will be glad to hear you've come to your senses," he said. He picked up the book. "Just don't make her feel worse," he warned. "Physically or otherwise." He walked over to his sister. "Harry's got the spell, I think he knows what to do. Is that okay? I want to meet Hermione for lunch."

Harry thought Ginny was trying very hard not to laugh. "Harry . . . ? Umm, okay. If you think he knows what he's doing."

"He does," Ron confirmed. "And if I doesn't, I expect you to tell me, okay?"

"Okay," said Ginny in a muffled voice.

Ron left. Harry waited an extra beat to make sure he wasn't going to suddenly reappear with yet another piece of advice before he carefully set a ward at the door to alert them if anyone was coming; a spell to keep people out of the changing area completely would be rather suspicious.

The table Ginny was lying on was about waist high. Harry put his hand lightly on her shoulder, not sure how much pain she was actually in.

"Does it hurt a lot?" he asked. "That Bludger hit you pretty hard."

Ginny nodded, her head against the table. "The surprise of it was the worst, almost knocked me off my brook" she said. "It hurts, but it's not unbearable." She lifted her neck to look at him. "And I think you can make it feel a lot better."

Harry grimaced. "I haven't studied those healing spells at all," he admitted. His hand was still on Ginny's shoulder. "I don't really know what to do."

"What does the book say?" Ginny sounded rather languid and Harry remembered that the training tables were charmed to be warm. He ran his hand down her arm.

"Falling asleep there, Weasley?" Harry moved his hand to Ginny's back, just below where the Bludger had ht. "I should take a look," he said.

"'Kay," said Ginny. Her voice had definitely gotten sleepier.

Carefully, Harry lifted the back of Ginny's top. She lifted her stomach so that he could bunch up the fabric under her. A dull bruise the rough size and shape of a Bludger spread across her back, just under her shoulder blades. Harry brushed his hand over it.

"This doesn't look too bad," he said. "Can I try to heal it?"

"You can try anything," mumbled Ginny.

Harry grinned. He read the spell a couple of times and said the words under his breath. Ginny's breathing was slow and steady; she was very relaxed. Quietly, Harry performed the charm and watched as the bruise faded to a yellowish green color. Ginny jerked slightly against the table. "Ohhh, that feels . . . that feels better," she said. "It's like you took a weight off my back. Is that it?"

"Not quite," said Harry. "There's one more part." He put the training manual on a nearby table.

Ginny's back was smooth and soft. Harry gently lay both his hands across the place where the bruise had been – he saw with satisfaction that it was almost gone now – and let them rest on her warm skin before running them down to her waist. "I need to check and make sure you're totally healed," he said thickly. He moved his hands back up and Ginny gave a little sigh of contentment.

"I'm still a little sore," she said.

Slowly, Harry explored every inch of Ginny's back, lightly drumming his fingers along her shoulders, smoothing his palms down her sides, resting his full hands right above the curve of her bum. His movements were gentle and deliberate and rather than feeling like he was becoming aroused, Harry found himself sinking into the same kind of languor as Ginny. He'd never really thought about this part of her body before; her front was usually what captured his attention. It was surprisingly intimate – and yet, not at all sexual – to touch Ginny like this, and Harry took his time in the quiet stillness. Ginny wasn't talking, but he knew she was not asleep.

Without really thinking about it, Harry lowered his head to Ginny's shoulder and kissed the sprinkling of freckles he'd discovered earlier. Ginny made a sound of relaxed contentment, and Harry pushed her hair to the side and kissed across both shoulders. He felt as her heartbeat sped up, the tiniest bit.

"Is that okay?" he asked.

In response, Ginny slowly rolled over, a lazy smile across her face. "It's brilliant," she said. She stretched like a cat. "My back feels totally back to normal. You can give me a massage anytime."

"Just don't get hit by a Bludger again first," Harry said. He looked down at her. "I'd really like to keep kissing you," he said honestly. "But . . ."

"But even my brother can't eat lunch forever," finished Ginny. "And he's going to want to know if you've properly apologized to me for your earlier rudeness." She sat up.

Harry kissed her. "And have I?" he asked.

Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and hopped off the table. "I . . . _think so_," she said. "But we might need to finish talking about it later. How it made me feel when you were so . . . rude to me." She ran her arms down Harry's sides. "In private."

"I'll do whatever it takes to show you how sorry I am," promised Harry. He took her hand. "I wonder if Ron would get suspicious if I needed to finish apologizing to you in a broom closet."

Ginny grinned. "I'm sure we can make up some excuse."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This was supposed to be the last chapter, but I wrote 1,200 words going in a different direction and didn't like it - it felt too much like scenes I've done in In Case of Emergency and Reversing Course; Harry and Ginny teasing each other at the Burrow when no one else knows they're together. So I scrapped that bit and started the chapter in a different place. I'm happy with where it went, even though it surprised me by going a bit darker than I planned - the story was supposed to be almost completely fluff, but it's hard to write about the end of Harry's 6th year without mentioning what was going on in canon. So here is the result. And as for the teasing at the Burrow scene, it's not abandoned, it's just going to be a bit different. If it ends up very different from what I've already written, I'll post the trashed version as well too, since I hate writing something and then abandoning it.

Ron, Harry and Ginny were leaving for the Burrow in the morning, and before that, Harry told Ginny, he had to talk to her. They were sitting in the common room at the time, ostensibly reviewing a new Chaser formation Harry wanted to implement for the upcoming match against Ravenclaw but really sending each other notes back and forth on the charmed parchment. The topic of whether Ron would ever admit to liking Hermione to her face had occupied an amusing half hour but when Ginny mentioned trying to get him to confess over the Easter holiday in front of the entire family, Harry leaned in.

"We need to talk about that," he muttered under his breath while feigning interest in the moving shapes on the parchment in front of them. "Can you figure out a diversion?"

Ginny gave a tiny nod. "I need to get my broom and equipment from the shed still," she murmured back. "I let it go until now in case we needed an excuse to get away."

"Brilliant," Harry breathed out. "And I need to . . . close up the shed and changing rooms, right? My duty as a captain demands it."

"It does," Ginny agreed solemnly. "We should go right now."

Ron gave Harry a significant look when he and Ginny mentioned going to clean out the broom shed, nodding his head and gesturing so blatantly that Harry would have wanted to hex him if he'd actually still been harboring his secret crush. As it was, he and Ginny barely made it out of the portrait hole before dissolving into laughter.

"I almost asked Ron what spell he was practicing, waving his arm like that," Ginny giggled.

Harry kissed her as they walked down the empty corridor, keeping his eyes out for other students. "I almost wished you had," he said. "I'd have loved to see what he answered. Although actually, that's kind of related to what I wanted to talk to you about." The door leading from the castle to the Quidditch pitch opened ahead of Ginny and she peered outside. "Coast is clear," she announced, reaching back to grab his hand. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

The evening was chilly; it was late March, after all, and Harry put his arm around Ginny as they walked. They'd figured out how to manage their height difference and now moved in easy tandem down the pathway. He waited until the pitch was in view before he answered.

"I want to tell everyone about us. Your family, I mean. They deserve to know." Harry had been thinking about it over the past few days and he knew what he wanted to do, and why. He had a lot more to say, but he also knew to wait for Ginny to respond first.

"This is about more than you not wanting to go an entire week without a snog," she said after a quiet moment. She gave a small laugh. "Because I wouldn't say they _deserve_ to know about that." She twisted to look at Harry, pulling them both to a stop.

He shuffled next to her. "Well, yeah," he said. "Although I also don't want to go a week having to sneak around and lie and worry about getting caught. But it's more than that."

"Something noble and unnecessary, I imagine," Ginny said. She wrapped her arm back around his waist and looked up at him, her expression at once fond and exasperated. "You feel guilty that you might be putting me in danger." She lightly touched two fingers to Harry's lips to quiet his response. "And I know there's nothing I can say to make you believe that your guilt is completely misplaced, so I might as well just go along with your plan."

If Harry had ever needed proof that he and Ginny were meant for each other (which he didn't), her immediate understanding would have been more than enough. He sighed against her hair. "You're right, of course." Now it was his turn to quiet Ginny, which he did by reaching bending down to give her a kiss.

"But this isn't just because of me," he said finally. This was the part he'd been wanting to avoid but knew he couldn't. "I talked to Dumbledore." They began walking again, the looming dusk making their conversation feel more private. Harry took a deep breath.

"At our . . . meetings, he's teaching me things." He knew this wasn't news to her.

Ginny nodded. "Important things, that will hopefully help you survive," she said calmly, repeating what Harry had already told her.

He nodded. "Dumbledore told me I could share, that I _should _share what I'm learning with Ron and Hermione." He stopped again and turned to face her. The trust on her face was evident and Harry wished he could just stand there and kiss her instead of telling her what he had to. He took a deep breath.

"But when I asked, he told me that I can't tell you." It had been a night he'd come very close to shouting at the Headmaster, who'd continued to insist, calmly - maddeningly calmly - that Harry not share with Ginny what he'd been learning about Horcruxes or Voldemort's connection to them. Even Harry's argument that Ginny knew more about them than most anyone, having been possessed by one, didn't dissuade the man. Only his final explanation, that it could be unaccountably dangerous for Ginny to know anything right now had finally ended Harry's insistence. _Unaccountably dangerous_was not something he wanted to think too much about. Now he shook his head.

"Professor Dumbledore said it would be safer for you not to know right now," he finished, easing his explanation a bit. He wasn't ready to let his mind go as far as the Headmaster's obviously had. He brushed his hand down Ginny's cheek. "I want to tell you, I swear. But I can't."

Harry knew he didn't have to apologize, and that Ginny would understand and accept. Now she nodded briskly. "I'm a year younger than you lot," she said. "You'll be of age this summer and Ron and Hermione already are. I expect that makes a difference."

Harry sighed. "This would be a lot easier if I was just trying to find an excuse to snog you in front of your family," he said glumly.

Ginny laughed. "If I can believe you'll actually do it once you tell them we're together, then I fully support you making the announcement over Easter dinner. But do you want to tell Ron and Hermione first?" They'd reached the broom shed and Harry pulled Ginny inside.

"Actually, I kind of like the idea of trying to sneak around the Burrow for a day or two first before we tell everyone." Harry left the door cracked open just enough to dimly light the space and the racks of school and personal brooms stored there. There were a couple of wooden boxes on the ground that held the balls used in matches and Harry sat down on one that wasn't shaking. "Come here," he said roughly, reaching out.

Ginny silently straddled Harry's lap, rising up so he could slip his hands under her bum and wiggle her into place. Her sharp intake of breath would have let him know he'd found the right spot, even if his own surge of pleasure had not. They rocked together silently, trailing hands up and down each other's backs. The air smelled of Quidditch and Ginny and the only sounds were the soft panting of her breath against his neck and the faint creaking of the crate beneath them. Then Ginny reached down and slipped her hands into the back of Harry's trousers and Harry was so surprised he cried out. Ginny hadn't yet touched a lot of his bare skin, below the waist at least. Now her hands cupped his backside and Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to return the favor or just revel in the sensation of skin against skin. Everything he'd been worrying about - what kind of danger Dumbledore thought Ginny might be in, what her family would think about Harry putting her in that danger - melted away for that moment when he felt Ginny's hands on him. He let his head fall against her chest, feeling the soft fabric of her winter cloak on his cheek. He spread his legs wider on the crate and thrust up, nearly standing for a moment as he held Ginny against him. Neither of them spoke.

And Harry thought about what it might be like, someday, to be with Ginny without any of those worries. It was a place he rarely allowed his thoughts to go, lest he get his hopes up too high and lose the focus of what needed to be done first. But he knew he wanted it - wanted Ginny without any distractions. It was too big to think about living his entire life without the specter of Voldemort; Harry couldn't even begin to imagine what that might be like. But having moments like this with Ginny, having more of her, or all of her, without fear or worry or interruption - Harry could somehow imagine that. He pushed against her again and thought of lying with her in a bed, cuddled together against a cold winter's day and nowhere to go except to each other. She dropped a kiss to his neck.

The box they were sitting on gave a sudden thump, startling Harry out of the moment. Ginny pulled her head back and stared at him before her shock eased and her face relaxed. They both laughed and Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Ginny again. "That feels . . . interesting, that vibrating," he said. "I can feel it in my bits."

Ginny laughed again and moved in Harry's lap and he groaned. "I can feel that in my bits too," he said.

"I hope it feels better than the Bludger," she said dryly.

"You've been hit with a Bludger," Harry pointed out. "What do you think?"

Ginny wiggled again. "I think I like the way it feels in my bits too. I definitely didn't like the Bludger." She lay her head against Harry's shoulder and snuggled into him. "Although I liked it afterwards, on the training table."

"Me too," said Harry. "I hadn't realized until then how sexy your back is. I'd always been much more interested in your front." He tickled his hands underneath Ginny's shirt. "It's so smooth and soft."

Ginny moaned. "Keep doing that, Harry," she said. "It feels so good."

Harry moved his hands again. "I want to do this lying in a bed with you," he said. "So I can reach all your parts." It was a fantasy that had been fueling his showers ever since he'd healed Ginny from the Bludger hit the week before, Ginny lying on her stomach while Harry sat straddled across the back of her thighs. Eventually she'd roll over, but what they did next Harry wasn't sure; so far he'd always climaxed before his daydream got that far. "When we get back from Easter break I'll sneak you up to my dormitory," he promised. "And set about a millions wards."

Ginny was rocking intently against Harry and didn't answer. He forced himself to sit still and let her move the way she wanted, slightly fascinated to discover what exactly felt the best to her. Usually when he and Ginny were pressed together like this, there was quite a bit of thrusting, but now Ginny's movements were tighter and more controlled. She wrapped her legs around Harry's back and squeezed herself against him, breathing heavily. Harry touched her chin and she looked up at him; he bent his head and kissed her deeply. She made a small sound low in her throat and suddenly, waiting a week to lie with Ginny in a bed seemed an interminably long time.

Harry moved to kissing Ginny's neck. "Or at the Burrow," he mumbled, his mind still on beds.

Ginny pushed against him a little harder. "What's at the Burrow?" she asked.

"A bed," Harry said. "I bet I could set enough wards on your door."

Ginny barked a laugh. "Bill's coming home," she said. "If you can set a ward he can't break, I'd like to see it." She eased the grip of her legs around Harry's waist and tilted her head back and Harry obliged by moving his lips down her skin. Ginny seemed perfectly content to let him kiss her, even though just moments before she'd been pushing herself into his erection. He was pretty sure she hadn't climaxed; that was something he'd had yet to see, although the thought of how he might get her there had been occupying more of his thoughts lately.

He pushed Ginny's hair away from her shoulder and bent his head. "Isn't Fleur coming home with him?" he asked. "I expect she'll keep him fairly distracted."

Ginny sighed. "I forgot about that," she said. "I wonder what old _Pflegm_is going to think of our Easter dinner; I'm sure it's nowhere near as 'elegante' as they have in France."

Harry knew better than to argue that Fleur actually wasn't that bad. "If she keeps Bill from breaking into your room, it'll be worth having her there," he said instead.

Ginny leaned back and looked at him. "You're really serious?" she asked. "About snogging me in my childhood bedroom?"

"I hope so," answered Harry. "Otherwise it's going to be a very long week." He knew it was getting late; he carefully lifted Ginny off his lap and slowly stood up after her, rubbing his legs where they'd gone a bit numb. "But I suppose we should see exactly how your family reacts when we tell them we're together." He didn't add that he wanted to wait to see if her parents seemed at all concerned about their only daughter taking up with someone who'd been chased by a dark wizard his entire life. "If they all seem intent on hexing me, then maybe your bedroom will have to wait."

Ginny had straightened her clothes and now she was looking critically at Harry's middle. "That's not the only thing that has to wait," she said, gesturing. She bit her lip. "Is it terribly uncomfortable? Usually you . . . finish."

Harry shrugged and wrapped his arms around her. "It's okay," he said. He grinned wryly down at her. "I mean, it's not the first time I've had to manage that myself. I fancied you for a long time before you knew."

"Oh, right," said Ginny. "Ohhhh." She looked at him. "Are you going to . . . tonight?" A faint blushed climbed her cheeks.

Harry was feeling bold. "Probably, yes," he said. In his arms, Ginny made a small sound and he tilted back to look at her. "Does that bother you?" He wasn't sure what he'd do if she said it bothered her.

Ginny shook her head. "Not at all no," she said.

There was an odd timbre in her voice and when Harry looked, it seemed Ginny's blush had deepened. He felt a new throb between his legs. "Do you . . . umm . . . think about me?" That was all he could bring himself to ask; he assumed she'd understand.

In response, Ginny buried her face in the front of Harry's shirt. "Yes," she mumbled. "Sometimes." She looked shyly up at him. "After the Bludger hit me."

That made Harry feel like he'd been hit by a Bludger too. He swallowed hard and kind of wished Ginny was still sitting across his lap. It was one thing for a bloke to do _that_, but he'd never really considered that girls - _Ginny_ \- might. And while she was thinking about him? This was an issue that would need more exploring.

"I think this is something that needs more discussion," he said to her. "When we have more time."

"Like alone in my warded room after you've told my family that we're together," nodded Ginny. There was a glint of humor in her eye. "I think that will be the perfect time."

Harry played along. "Sounds good to me," he said, leaning down to kiss her. "I wish we didn't have to go back to the castle right now." He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted instead - to be alone more with Ginny, yes, but not necessarily to continue their snog. He just wanted to be with her and not have it feel rare and fleeting. He didn't want to have to look at his watch or worry about making sure they finished their conversation because they knew another one would be coming whenever they wanted. He wanted the comfort of monotony, not that he thought a single moment with Ginny would ever be monotonous. But right now he felt like these moments with Ginny would never be enough, and yet they had to be.

Slowly, the gathered themselves together and put their cloaks back on. Ginny remembered that they needed to return with their brooms and Harry made sure the door to the shed was firmly sealed behind them.

They didn't speak for the first part of the walk back. Harry's thoughts were swirling around thoughts of how to tell family about the two of them without anyone asking about what that might mean to Voldemort. Interspersed with that worry was Ginny's voice, muffled by his shirt, as she admitted that she thought about him. The contrast between the two topics was nearly dizzying. Harry didn't know what kept Ginny silent, but by the pensive look on her face he thought he could imagine. Only when the castle loomed before them did Harry stop and turn towards Ginny. "It's going to be okay," he said simply. "We're going to be okay."

Ginny smiled at him, and if it didn't quite reach her eyes, Harry couldn't blame her. "I know," she said.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry had loved the Burrow from the moment Ron and the twins had brought him there the summer before Second Year, but the for the first day visiting for the Easter holiday, he didn't know quite how to be. He'd told Ginny he wanted to tell her family they were together, and he knew - in theory at least - that it was the right thing to do. Reality, with her parents and all her brothers there, was quite a different thing. He'd forgotten quite how muscular Charlie was, or how Bill's talent with curses included casting them as well as breaking them. Fred and George didn't miss a thing and Ron was already watching the way Harry treated Ginny, to make sure that his rudeness towards her didn't return.

Harry didn't even want to think about what her parents would say.

The result of all this was that Harry spoke so little that Mrs. Weasley felt his forehead three different times and asked if he was coming down with something and Ron glared at him when he started to choose a seat at the dinner table as far away from Ginny as possible and cleared his throat over and over until Harry moved closer. Both Fred and George seemed intrigued by Ron's behavior.

"Something go down the wrong pipe there, Ron?" asked George, peering across the table at his younger brother. He nudged Fred. "Ron seems to be trying to convey some sort of secret message to Harry, doesn't it seem so, Gred?"

Fred nodded. "It does. I'm not sure for what purpose yet though, Forge. We'll have to keep an eye on things, I think."

Harry, now sitting right between Ginny and Ron, groaned quietly. Less than an hour he'd been at the Burrow and already the twins knew something was up. He was going to have to try harder to throw everyone off track until he and Ginny were ready to tell everyone on their own terms.

The problem was, Harry had meant what else he'd told Ginny in the broom shed; he didn't want to spend the week not snogging her. Hell, he realized during that first dinner than he didn't even want to spend one night not snogging her. The day before, he'd gone back to his dorm after the Quidditch shed with his mind on what Ginny had told him - that she thought of him when she touched herself - and he'd been in a semi-aroused state ever since. The Burrow only had a single bathroom, so Harry knew that his wanks were likely to be few and far between that week. And while he and Ginny had only gone far enough to make Harry climax three times - while mostly fully clothed, of course - each of those times had been better than what he could do alone, any day. Harry had a feeling that the longer he had to keep his feelings for Ginny a secret, the more reckless he was likely to get trying to sneak some time alone with her, and the more likely it was that they would get caught. So telling everyone sooner rather than later made sense.

But the first night home wasn't the right time, Harry told himself. Molly had just asked him for the fourth time if he was feeling all right, after he'd politely turned down pudding and said he needed the loo. It was some sort of pie with whipped cream on top, and Harry had thoughtlessly turned to his head to the left to answer a question Mr. Weasley had asked him just in time to see Ginny licking it off her fingers. Her eye caught his and that was it. He jumped up, thankful he was wearing blue jeans that kept everything mostly in place, and sidled out of the room and up the stairs. He was already thinking about Ginny licking whipped cream off _him_ before the bathroom door was locked and silenced, and his wank, though rather quick and perfunctory, at least meant that he could join the Weasleys in the sitting room after dinner without embarrassing himself.

Ron sat very deliberately next to him on the sofa. "You're doing it again," he muttered under his breath. Harry looked at him in confusion. "Being a prat to Ginny," Ron continued. "Stop it, before everyone else notices."

At Hogwarts Harry had found it easiest to go along with Ron and promise to apologize. But now, for some reason, the accusation rankled. "I'm not being a prat," he said under his breath. "And I'm sure Ginny would agree; we're _fine_, Ron." Harry assumed that would be the end of it, but he underestimated Ron's determination on the matter.

"Hey, has anyone else noticed that Harry's being a prat to Ginny?" Ron raised his voice over the general din of the room and everyone grew quiet.

"A prat? What is 'zat?" asked Fleur. She was curled up in the same chair as Bill and Harry was rather jealous that they could be out in the open like that. Ginny also looked rather annoyed at their display of affection and Harry hoped it was more about her desire to do the same with him than her general dislike of Fleur that was making her twitchy.

"It means that he's ignoring her for no reason and generally being an arse." Ron rolled his eyes when his mother tutted at his language but held his ground. He looked at his sister. "Don't you think so, Ginny? I know you noticed when it acted like one back at Hogwarts and I thought you'd worked things out." He turned to Harry and gave him a very deliberate look. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Harry had to believe that Hermione had put Ron up to this. She was home with her parents for two more days before she'd come to the Burrow for the rest of the holiday, and Harry could imagine that she'd instructed Ron to get Harry to have confessed his feelings before she arrived. He didn't know whether to groan or be grateful. Before he could figure out how to answer, Ginny spoke up.

"I noticed that too, Ron. We've been here three hours and Harry has yet to say a word to me." She sighed. "I thought we'd worked out our differences back at school." She turned to Harry. "What's wrong, Harry? Did I do something to you to make you upset with me? Or even just uncomfortable?" Her eyes were wide and guileless and despite knowing better, Harry had a moment of guilt for his supposed behavior. Only the slight twitch of her lips gave her away.

Harry thought quickly. "Actually Ginny, there is something that's been upsetting me. About you, I mean." He gave her an aggrieved look. "You haven't been putting in enough effort at Quidditch practices, and it's starting to affect the rest of the team." He shook his head. "I didn't know quite how to tell you, but I guess Ron took care of that for me." He looked at his friend. "Thanks, I think."

Ron looked confused. "Ginny's been playing great, what are you going on about?" he asked. Harry smirked; obviously Hermione hadn't given Ron instructions for what to do if Harry went on the offensive.

"Maybe you haven't been paying enough attention, Ron, but Ginny's play has been slipping and it's going to cost us the game against Ravenclaw if she doesn't pick it up." Harry looked cautiously at Ginny, hoping she'd play along.

Of course, she did. "Slipping?" she said, the righteous disbelief evident in her tone. "Are you mental? I'm your best Chaser on the team and you know it. If my game is 'slipping' it's only because you aren't a very good captain." She put her hands on her hips. "You didn't even know how to properly heal my back when I got hit by that Bludger last week. I ended up having to go to the Hospital Wing and I missed dinner." She grimaced. "Madam Pomfrey wanted to know what exactly you'd done when you put your hands on me." The innuendo was so blatant that Harry blushed, certain everyone else would catch on. Fred barked a laugh and Harry braced himself.

"Oooh, Harry knows how dangerous it is to get Ginny hacked off; he's as red as a Howler!" The room exploded in laughter and Harry chuckled weakly, pretending to play along.

"Maybe you can get some practice in over the week and turn things around," he said. "I'd hate to have to bring in a reserve Chaser."

"Harry, we don't have a reserve Chaser." Now Ron looked worried. He was looking back and forth between his sister and his best friend, and Harry suspected Ron was wondering if Harry had given up his crush on Ginny when faced with her apparent incompetence on the Quidditch pitch. He stifled a grin.

"Fine." Ginny stood up and stood in front of him. Harry had to resist the urge to reach up and push a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "If you're that worried about your precious match against Ravenclaw, we might as well start now. You're not afraid to fly at night, are you, Potter?"

Harry was unable to answer for a moment; Ginny's use of his last name was incredibly arousing. He rolled his eyes. "I think I can manage it, Weasley," he said dryly. He gestured out of the sitting room. "I think our brooms are already in the shed?"

He was momentarily worried that Ron or one of Ginny's other brothers was going suggest practicing with them. But then Fleur asked a question about British Easter traditions and nearly everyone's eyes glazed over as they fell all over themselves to answer her. Harry wasn't sure, but he thought Fleur gave him a wink right before he followed Ginny out the door.

Harry waited until he and Ginny were inside the broom shed before wrapping his arms around her and dropping his head to her shoulder. To his surprise, Ginny pushed him away.

"Oh no, I'm not kissing anyone who thinks my Quidditch skills are slipping," she said primly. She walked over and picked up her broom. "You told me I needed to practice, so let's get up in the air."

Harry didn't need to hear the waver in Ginny's voice to know how she really felt. He grabbed his own broom and shrugged. "At least we won't be practicing with Bludgers this time," he said. "Since my hands apparently don't make you feel good when I touch you." He leaned past her to open the door to the shed, brushing his arm against her side. Ginny shivered.

"They're . . . they're going to wonder if they don't see us flying," she said breathlessly. "My family." She turned to him.

"Probably think we're still having a row," said Harry. He stepped closer and Ginny looked up at him.

"A long row," she nodded. Her broom clattered to the floor.

Harry's followed. "We might be fighting so much we won't have time to fly at all," he said, lowering his head to hers.

They never did make it into the air. Ginny pushed Harry against the wall and fit her body against his and it didn't matter that they were standing up in the corner of a rather dusty broom shed in shouting distance of Ginny's entire family. Harry pushed up Ginny's jumper and slipped his hands under her bra - which he'd done before - and then moved one hand to cup her between the legs, which he hadn't. She made a small sound and pushed against him.

"I wish we could lie down together somewhere," Ginny mumbled against his neck. "And that I could take these off." She gestured down at her trousers.

Harry felt a renewed jolt of heat to his groin. "You want to do that?" She'd unbuttoned Harry's jeans on one occasion (and it had been brilliant), but Ginny had always stayed completely dressed below the waist until now. She nodded.

"Somehow, being at home and knowing how hard it's going to be to even get the chance to snog is making me especially randy," she admitted.

"Not to mention that you think of me when you . . . you know," said Harry boldly. He couldn't quite say the word - did witches even use the word _wank_? Ginny nodded again and even in the dim light of the broom shed he could tell she was blushing.

"You're not going to forget I told you that, are you?"

"Nope," said Harry. "Any more than you'll forget how often I think I you."

Ginny lay her head on Harry's chest. "We'll have to talk about this more when we can actually do something about it," she said. "I don't think this broom shed is good for much more than snogging. I'll have to ask Bill where he plans to sneak off with Fleur."

Harry was immediately on alert. "You're going to ask Bill?" he said? "Don't you think he'll want . . . he'll want to know why you're interested?" If Harry had to pick, he'd say that Ginny's oldest brother was probably the top reason he had for not telling her family about them this week. Bill ranked above her parents, even. And seeing him with Fleur only reiterated the fact that Bill's experiences were definitely not something he'd share with his little sister, particularly if he knew she was asking for personal reasons. Harry shuddered.

Ginny giggled. "I'm just joking," she said. "Bill still thinks of me as a five year old. Although I almost think Fleur suspects something. She was looking at me funny earlier, and for once, I don't think it was to make a dig about the messiness of my hair."

Harry remembered Fleur's wink as he and Ginny had left to go "fly". He nodded. "I think she purposely distracted everyone so we could leave without them following," he said. He brushed his hand against Ginny's hair. "And for the record, I love it when you hair is falling all around your shoulders like this."

Ginny gave him a brilliant smile. "I like yours messy too," she said.

Harry chuckled. "And that's a good thing, because it's the only way I know how to wear it." He leaned down to kiss her.

After a few minutes, he reluctantly pulled away, carefully straightening the front of Ginny's shirt. "I think we'd better end our "row" and head back before someone comes looking for us," he said. They'd already been gone a long time.

Ginny sighed. "I don't think this excuse is going to work again," she said. "We'll have to come up with a different one for tomorrow."

Harry felt a throb of pleasure at the thought of _tomorrow_, and he nodded. "I'll get working on that right away," he said. "If I insult your Quidditch skills any more, Ron's going to hex me outright. I think I convinced him I'd stopped fancying you because your skills on a broom are so pathetic. Did you see his face?" They were walking back to the Burrow now, standing carefully apart from each other, and Harry was relieved to see that the back door into the kitchen was not crowded with waiting Weasleys.

Ginny giggled. "It's a good thing Hermione isn't here yet," she said. "I don't think she'd have been quite as gullible."

"About Quidditch she might have been," disagreed Harry. "She doesn't know anything about it. It's her biggest fault, as far as I'm concerned."

Ginny nodded. "Good point," she said. They'd reached the back door. "So, how do you want to play this? Did we declare a truce in the broom shed or are we still annoyed with each other?'

From inside the house, Harry heard a shout of laughter and the fainter sounds of Celestina Warbeck singing in the background. He could clearly imagine the cozy scene they were about to walk in on; it was the kind of scene he felt privileged to have been a part of on nearly every trip to Ginny's home and one he knew he'd never take for granted. As fun as it was to sneak off and hope no one would catch on, Harry wanted to soak up as much of the comfort of friends who felt like family as he could, for as long as he could. He had to think only for a minute before stepping up to Ginny and taking her hand.

"I think we made up," he said carefully.

Ginny turned and looked at him. "Are you sure?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "If you are."

Ginny gave him a blazing smile. "I'm definitely sure," she said. Her grin grew a little wicked. "And really, how bad could Bill be?"

Harry gulped as he pushed open the back door. "Let's hope Fleur is feeling up to distracting him a bit more."

He gripped Ginny's hand tighter as they walked into the sitting room. The entire family was gathered around Fred and Ron, who sat facing each other, a tiny model of a Quidditch pitch between them and strange looking hats on their head. They were both concentrating intently and as Harry and Ginny walked closer, he could see tiny figures on brooms zooming back and forth, passing a Quaffle and dodging Bludgers, all apparently controlled by Fred and Ron's minds. George was standing behind Fred, whispering in his ear every so often and Charlie was helping Ron. The miniature scoreboard at the side of the pitch indicated that Fred was up by only 20 points.

Harry leaned forward over Fred's shoulder. "The Snitch is right there, above the far right goalpost," he said, pointing.

Fred nodded tersely and scrunched up his eyes. After a second, one of the Seekers broke away and streaked towards the tiny gold dot bobbing in the air. Fred raised his hands in triumph and pulled off his hat while everyone else cheered. He turned towards Harry.

"Thanks; I'm much better at controlling the Bludg . . . are you holding hand with my sister?" Fred's shocked voice carried easily over the rest of the room and silence fell. George twisted around and stared at Harry and Ginny, a slow smile spreading over his face as he saw their clasped hands. Ron's Quidditch players fell to the floor with a clatter. Across the room, Harry saw Fleur lean and in whisper something to Bill. The man glanced at Harry and Ginny with an unreadable expression on his face. He started to stand up and Harry tensed.

"So you finally told her, mate?" Ron's relieved voice cut across the silence.

Harry was relieved too, when Bill's focus shifted to his brother. He didn't sit back down but at least he wasn't pulling out his wand.

"Finally told her . . . Ginny, are you holding Harry's hand? Harry, are you feeling okay? I knew going outside to fly in this weather was a bad idea." Mrs. Weasley apparently thought Ginny was supporting Harry in a time of illness. Ginny huffed with impatience

"Bill, sit down," she said firmly. George, Fred, stop whispering to each other. Mum, Harry's feeling fine, I promise." Ginny turned to Ron and put her hands on her hips. "How long have you known that Harry fancied me?"

Ron sputtered and Harry suppressed a smirk. His girlfriend was absolutely brilliant. She walked over to Ron and peered down at him. "You've known for a while, haven't you? And kept it from me?" The entire room went still, waiting for Ron to answer.

He looked back and forth between Harry and Ginny, and Harry could almost see how much Ron wished Hermione was there to take charge. He shook his head and took a deep breath before facing his sister.

"Since I got poisoned," he admitted finally. "Harry told us - let slip, actually - while I was in the Hospital Wing."

"That's over a month!" George crowed, shoving Fred. "Ron's kept his mouth shut for almost a month! He gave Ron an impressed look. "I'd have expected you to blab before that. At least to us; there's so much material there we could have already put to use."

"No matter,' added Fred. "We'll just get started now. It will make a fabulous story for one of our patented daydream charms - unrequited love from afar."

Harry groaned. "I think I'm more scared of the twins than Bill," he muttered under his breath to Ginny. She squeezed his hand encouragingly.

"Yes, Ron," she said with deceptive sweetness. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Ron shrugged defensively. "Harry asked - begged - me not to," he said. "He's my best mate, so I agreed. Besides," he added, looking a little sheepish, "Hermione told me that Harry needed to be the one to tell you himself." He looked at his sister. "Harry told me the same

thing, actually. I just didn't think it would take him this long."

Ginny gave Ron an approving nod. "That's what I would expect you to do," she said. "Keep Harry's secrets. I'm sure things wouldn't have done nearly as well if you'd been the one to tell me Harry fancied me."

Ron let out a relieved sigh that he wasn't about to be the recipient of a Bat-Bogey hex. He shook his head. "It was a very long month. He kept ignoring you and treating you like a prat and Hermione wouldn't let me say anything." He looked at Harry. "So what made you finally decide to tell her? You both seemed pretty hacked off at each other when you left for a fly."

Fleur's pealing laugh rang out. "Zat wasn't a fight, 'zat was foreplay," she said. She turned to Bill. "Didn't I tell you? That Harry 'ad it bad for Ginny, and 'er for 'im?"

Bill kissed her nose. "You did," he agreed. "And I said I didn't believe it." He looked across the room at Harry. "Should I believe it?" he asked. His voice was mild but Harry didn't relax. He squeezed Ginny's hand.

"You should," he confirmed.

"And do you really think my sister's skills as a Chaser need improvement?" Bill raised his eyebrows.

"No, but it sounds like Harry does, if he chased Ginny for an entire month before telling her he fancied her!" Fred gave George a high-five, but Harry kept his eyes on Bill. He shook his head.

"No," he said quickly. He resisted the urge to add a 'sir' to the end. "Ginny's a brilliant Chaser, the best on the team."

"And did you tell her that already?" Bill pressed. Harry nodded.

"I did," he said. "Several times." Next to him, he heard Ginny give a small snort. Harry's eye fell on her parents, who'd been disconcertingly quiet until then.

"I really like Ginny," Harry said, speaking directly to them. "A lot." He realized this was a speech he'd much rather not have in front of the entire Weasley family, but there was no going back now. "I promise . . ." Harry stopped. He'd been about to promise that he'd never do anything to hurt her, but that was a promise he knew he might not be able to keep. Hell, he couldn't even promise that he'd always be there for her, or that he'd watch out for her. "Umm," he stuttered, feeling supremely inept. "What I mean is . . ."

"We know, Harry." It was Bill who spoke, more gently than Harry had ever heard from him before. There wasn't a hint of overbearing older brother in his expression as he looked around the room. Slowly, the other Weasleys nodded in agreement. Mrs. Weasley smiled.

"I'm quite relieved you aren't really sick, Harry," she said kindly. Her eyes twinkled. "I'm not sure I have a potion for someone who's lovesick, so I'm glad you were finally able to tell Ginny how you feel."

Harry wondered what everyone would say if they knew he and Ginny had already been together for weeks. He chanced a glance at Bill, hoping he wasn't thinking about Legilimency at that moment. "Thanks Bill," he said quietly. "And you too, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley." Mrs. Weasley waved away Harry's thank you.

"It's nothing," she said. She looked like there was more she wanted to say, but Ginny's father leaned forward instead.

"We trust you," he said simply. "Trust you to do what needs to be done, even when it's not the easy choice, or . . . the safe one." He looked seriously at Harry, and Harry felt a some of the guilt he harbored from daring to date Ginny at all ease. He couldn't say he was completely relaxed about it, but maybe he could pretend for a little while that his nerves stemmed from the fact of Ginny having six older brothers and not because he might be putting her into unimaginable danger.

"Thank you," he said again, looking around the room. "All of you."

"I'd be careful about thanking the twins," said Ginny dryly. "They already look up to something." She turned and smiled at Harry and he almost forgot himself and leaned down to kiss her in front of her entire family. He pulled back at the last minute, and Ginny grinned. "Later," she whispered.

Harry nodded, liking the sound of that. Hopefully there would be many opportunities for _later_ in the future.

A/N: This is my second completed story this week, and it feels good to finish. Working on plans for a few new things. Thanks for reading!


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